The Northern Theatre
by PangaeanWar
Summary: Months have passed since the Promised Day arrived and failed. Though the war is over for many Amestrians, strong tension has remained in the military. All eyes are turned towards Fort Briggs at the north border, where many believe that Drachma will soon launch another attack. They will avenge their humiliation and defeat by Amestrian forces, by any means necessary... (review?)
1. Chapter 1

Several months had passed since the Promised Day had arrived, its supposed assured outcome resulting in failure. Though the war was over for many Amestrians, tensions had remained at an all-time high in the military despite General Grumman taking over as Fuhrer.

Though the events leading up to Amestris' poorly named 'doomsday' had heavily improved feelings with the country's Eastern neighbor Xing, it had greatly worsened the already unstable foreign relations it held with its northern adjacent counterpart- Drachma. Their pact of non-aggression hanging by a thread, Drachma broke the agreement when it attacked the border it shared with Amestris. Luckily, Amestris' northernmost fortress effortlessly put down the skirmish- even as Fort Briggs' commander was in Central for an urgent (and corrupted) meeting. Even without their commander, the Amestrian soldiers holding the fort easily overcame their enemy's artillery and soldiers. Nonetheless, this event caused the fort's commander, Major General Armstrong, to be reluctant to leave in the future.

As the new government took power and efforts were made in order to assist in the rebuilding of Ishval, many northern soldiers felt as if it was unfair to stay cooped up in the fort. Many wanted to be transferred down south in order to assist in the civil war-torn area's rebuilding as it was restored into a trade hub between Xing and Amestris. Despite this warranted reasoning, officers at Fort Briggs all agreed on one thing- defense should not be lessened at the border; if anything, security should be heightened. Drachma's humiliating defeat would not easily be forgotten- they knew the military state would soon try to avenge their embarrassment through any means necessary.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Interrupted again. The numerous papers on the Major General's desk fluttered as she gave an exaggerated sigh through her teeth. Forms and letters were scattered around her desk as well as a few that laid on the floor. Ever since the new government took office and new policies were being enacted, there was much more paperwork for officers to do. The only thing the general liked about the late Fuhrer Bradley was how little paperwork she had to do under his rule- no matter how inhuman he really was. She set her pen down, propping up her head on an elbow, "Come in."

The door slowly and quietly creaked open, as if the force moving it was terrified and nervous. A young soldier's head peeked out from behind the door, immediately making eye contact with his commander. Letting out a soft _eep_ of surprise, the soldier's body snapped to attention as his hand flew towards his temple in a salute.

"M-Major General Armstrong, Sir," he began, his voice shaking almost as much as his legs. "I-I-I…"

The woman rolled her eyes, "Well, spit it out. I don't have all day, I'm very busy."

The young soldier dropped his salute with a soft sigh of relief. Olivier's eye twitched. "I was sent to retrieve the… th-the, um…" his voice diminished as the general's icy blue eyes narrowed. He seemed to shrink back slightly before he continued, "Neil would like the forms Central sent for the research on our tanks and aerosani.."

"Mm," Olivier replied in affirmation. She finally broke eye contact with him as she glanced down to sift through her papers; finally finding the ones requested. She grabbed them and forcefully extended them over her desk and towards the young soldier for him to take. Nervously clamoring over to her desk, he took them from her rather delicately before hightailing it to the door.

The Major General cleared her throat, causing the soldier to freeze in his steps. He slowly turned back to her, his brown eyes terrified. "First off," Olivier said, standing up behind her desk. The woman was short, but her body language enough would suffice to intimidate any soldier. "You don't drop your salute until it is returned, and you always salute when you exit the presence of an officer. It's not only polite, but it is an _order_. Do I make myself clear, boy?" She asked, her voice low and authoritative.

The soldier could only nod, so much so that it seemed as if his head were about to snap off. He gulped in nervousness, any words caught in his throat. He shakily lifted a hand to salute, a gesture in which the general did not return. She glared over at him, "I'd keep you in here standing like that for hours if I wasn't so busy. Get out of my sight, and learn your manners," she grumbled, waving him out in a half-salute. The soldier left that room so quickly, one could say there was but a puff of dust where he once stood.

Sighing again, Olivier ran a gloved hand through her long, blonde hair. Today of all days, when she had the most paperwork her eyes had ever set sight on, it was only natural that every single soldier in that fort would interrupt her. It was all a package deal, she realized. The power, position, command, stature, boundless respect, hundreds of strong and loyal soldiers…. and the endless paperwork and clueless newbies in-training. An officer's work is never done.

Another knock at the door.

That was it. The Major General snapped, slamming her hands onto the table and standing. Her strength sent several papers flying off into the air and onto the ground, "What is it _this_ time?!"

"May I come in, General?" The familiar voice asked from the other side of the door. The sound of her adjutant immediately made Olivier's shoulders relax. She'd rather him interrupt her than anyone else. In fact, she'd rather him keep her company than for her to work alone all day. It always seemed easy for him to calm her down. She sat back down, instantly regretting her angry tone towards her most trusted soldier, "I'm sorry, Major. Come on in."

Major Miles carefully opened the door, his handsome facial features filled with worry. He closed the door behind him, giving his commanding officer a salute, "I'm sorry to interrupt, General."

Olivier saluted back, allowing the Major to drop his hand, making his way over to her desk. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes, hidden by his snow-blindness goggles, scanned the papers in front of the Major General, "And I thought last week was bad enough. This is much worse."

She only nodded, "It's absolutely horrid. The worst part is most of these are the same damn thing!" she complained, lifting up a paper to him just to prove her point. Miles took it, bringing it closer to his face in order to see it more easily. Reading it, he gave a _hmph _and set it back down.

He took this moment to straighten up some of the papers on her desk, "I'd help you if I could, Sir. Maybe you should take a day off."

Olivier sighed softly, watching as the mess of papers she had created was effortlessly organized. "I appreciate it, Miles, but you know what happened last time I left."

It was Miles' turn to sigh, "You know very well that wasn't your fault, Sir. You know we handled ourselves well, not to mention there's no threat of an alchemy-induced doomsday at the moment."

The Major General stifled an amused smile, "True. But you know as well as I do that Drachma's planning something. Just because you sent them back into their igloos with their tails between their legs doesn't mean they won't come back with more strength. Drachma's a large country, and we have no way of knowing exactly how many bases they have near our border, or what military technology they might be developing."

Her adjutant smiled much more easily than her, "You've always been an observant one, General. I won't force you, but it is sounding an awful lot like you don't trust me in leading this fort."

"Don't play that game, Major," Olivier murmured. "You're more than qualified, and you know I'm aware of that."

"I know," Miles replied as he finished cleaning up the workplace. "Your concern is completely vindicated, Sir. I was only messing with you."

"Since when do you mess around?" The woman shot him a questioning glance.

"Just trying to lighten the mood, Sir," Miles gave her a sheepish smile in return, "I know how stressful this must be. Perhaps a drink later would cheer you up. Not with me, of course."

The general eyed him suspiciously, "We'll see later, Major. Until then, keep up the good work."

Major Miles gave her a nod and a small salute in reply, "Won't let you down, Sir." Olivier returned his salute, and he was off.

After he exited the room, the Major General glanced back down at the papers. She had been in the middle of writing something when he had entered, and now she had lost her thought.

"Dammit..."


	2. Chapter 2

The scenery was filled to the brim with dark blotted shades of blue, gray, and black. The smooth, untouched snow that blanketed the ground completely contrasted the dark night sky, which was infused with an innumerable selection of small, far-off white stars. Tall, dark mountains stretched up and extended their peaks to these beautiful lights, their edges painted with the same perfect snow that lay underfoot. No snow fell, allowing for calm silence to engulf the atmosphere around the impervious Amestrian Wall.

Which was an unusual sight to behold, actually. Any soldier used to the harsh climate of the north would not hesitate to describe their home as cold, ruthless, and fraught with nonstop danger. Nonetheless, there was sometimes the rare, fleeting moment such as this in which all was serene and peaceful. Even the temperatures in the air were comfortable to anyone wearing appropriate gear- unlike normal, when even the most bundled-up soldiers could be caught with their teeth chattering, frostbitten and dazed.

Another unusual occurrence took place at this time- the Major General was up and about. Around this time of night, she was either getting ready for bed or finishing up an abnormally long day of work. Strangely, something had beckoned her out of the fort that evening- perhaps it was just because the weather and view were so nice. It might be a while until this peace could be felt again.

She yawned softly, almost regretting stepping out into the snow and ruining the pristine picture of white. Still, the initial crunch that was heard as her boot met snow was all so satisfying. Olivier started out along the side of the wall, casually strolling and taking in her surroundings. She never took night watch or any sort of security, this walk was made purely to enjoy the peace and wind down from a seemingly unending day. To her left, her metallic fortress towered over her and all else in sight- powerful and impregnable. To her right, a vast ocean of white extended for miles; even passing the hesitant border Amestris shared with Drachma. The general paused, looking out into the distance and tilting her head slightly, eyebrows knit together in reflective thought. It was funny; even though all of the snow she saw ahead of her was the same in its composition and color, some of it wasn't even the property of her country. She knew that where her vision ended, far off into the white, Drachma had laid claim. Two opposing countries with differing ideals and cultures all owned this same thing- an abundance of seemingly worthless snow. Just freeze some water and bam- there you go. And to think, this shit is what could cause two countries to go to war.

"General?" a voice from behind her interrupted Olivier's thoughts. She flinched slightly, immediately ashamed of herself for having let her guard down. Her small, gloved hand instantly met with the hilt of her sword, drawing it in one swift motion and swinging it in the direction of the stranger. Her slice perfectly controlled and her sword obedient to its master, her attack froze before it hit its mark. The blade stilled about a foot away from her adjutant's neck, who was standing behind her with his shoulders tensed.

Her blue eyes widened, quickly withdrawing her weapon. She wished to apologize, but it wasn't like her to say such a thing. "You scared the living hell out of me, Major," she sighed, sheathing the sword. Her voice immediately calmed the Ishvalan, his nervous shoulders sagging as he relaxed.

"Sorry, Sir," he replied shyly. "I didn't mean to startle you, but it's a bit odd to see you out this late. Is everything alright?"

Olivier noticed quite an amount of concern in his question, his eyebrows furrowed as he nervously awaited her answer. It was only a night stroll, what was he so worried about?

"I'm quite alright, Miles," she replied reassuringly, using his actual name in an attempt to calm him down further. It seemed to work, since her soldier heaved a soft sigh of relief at her reply. She continued after seeing him relax, "It was just a nice night for once, and I wanted to take a short walk."

"Mm," Miles murmured. He nervously adjusted his goggles, earning a curious blink from his superior. What was he acting so nervous about? "It, uh… It is a nice night, isn't it?"

The Major General nodded, "It's rare to see the weather like this, so calm and quiet. It's even stopped snowing for once."

Her Major chuckled softly, the soft sound heating up Olivier's cheeks. "Yessir. It's probably even more odd for you, since you're so used to the harsh weather and all. Nights like these always serve to give me a bit of a homey feel, you know? It's almost as if this weather is the closest to home I'll ever be graced with while living up here. Or, as close as Ishval can feel like home. Not that I don't like the ice," he smiled shyly. "I mean… Growing up in Central, it must be kind of nice to feel that climate whenever we visit, right?"

"Not so much," Olivier replied, earning a small questioning _hm_ from Miles. "I like the cold. It always provides a quick and efficient death, always encroaching and unsuspecting… Once you start to fear the worst, it's already too late. That's why it takes guts and will alone to survive out here. Conditions such as these always allow for people's true sides to show, their true strength and willpower able to override any preconceived notions of what survival must truly mean…"

Both turned out to look into the snow before them. "True," Miles began with a small nod of acknowledgement. "But the scenery is also very beautiful, especially during times like this. The gently falling snow, the contrasting blue and white during those blizzard-less days.. Though, it can be quite empty and lonely. I mean, look at all of it!" he said, extending a hand towards the snowy plain.

"You only say that because you're not from here," the queen said, shooting a glance towards her knight. "Where you lived, it's all hot and gritty sand. I'm sure that I could think of just as many nice things to say about the change of scenery if I went down there, similarly as how you've done in your migration up here."

"That's not entirely right. Sure, the deserts of Ishval are hot and brutal during the day, but at night…" the man smiled to himself as if reminiscing on a more simple era in his life (though in reality, it wasn't much simpler _or_ peaceful) , "the temperatures get very similar to how they are here in the daytime, windchill included. I guess in a way, their paths always end up crossing in one aspect or another."

A sigh from the blonde caught his attention, causing him to realize how lost he got in the moment. "Kind of like us, huh?" The General asked, her blue eyes meeting his red ones. "You hated my very guts the first time we met, kind of like someone first adjusting to a new climate I guess. And now.." she trailed off, letting a short laugh escape her lips- a sound completely and utterly foreign to the Major. He blinked, an unnoticeable blush spreading across his dark features.

"Oh, fuck it," she smiled lightheartedly. "You know what I meant, Major. Now wipe that surprised look off your mug and let's get inside. It's late, I should be asleep, and your patrol should be ending by now."

"R-right, yes, General," Miles replied. He adjusted his goggles and fidgeted as the two turned to step back inside. Suddenly, a bright light in the pair's periphery caught their attention. They both spun on their heels, craning in an attempt to fully see what foreign manifestation had interrupted the night's peace. Olivier laid a hand on the hilt of her sword once again, while Miles' found his gun in a similar manner.

A red light rose up from the snow far off into the night- still bright enough for the two to see despite the distance they shared. It rose at a constant quick speed; vertically moving until it slowed to a complete stop. The red of the light broke the pattern of stars in the dark blue sky, the source of the disturbance splitting off into many smaller pieces in every direction. Each portion of light fell slowly off into its own path, slowly fading until the sky was stained with a red dusty smoke.

Miles opened his mouth to speak, though his superior took the words right from him-

"A flare."


	3. Chapter 3

"A-a flare?" Miles stammered, stumbling back a step. He instinctively raised his pistol to the supposed location of where the flare had been fired, "Surely the guys on top of the wall would've seen that?"

"I don't know," Olivier replied, already beginning to split. "And we're not staying long enough to find out what that flare was for. It was red; there's no way that's a good sign."

Her adjutant quickly stumbled along after her, trying to keep up, "R-right, yes sir."

The two quickly made their way back Into the walls of the fort, slamming the door shut behind them. The general immediately called over a nearby soldier, harshly ordering him to sound an alarm and to rally the others. Nodding hastily, the young guard hurried off to do as he was told.

Another soldier cowered, huddled against the wall. This was what he had trained for, but so soon after he graduated the academy…?

The general snatched up the furred collar of his coat, pulling him out of his daze so that she could look him in the eye. Her cold, blue eyes met with pure fear, "Snap out of it!"

The icy orbs glanced down at his shoulder, meeting his rank. He was very, very low on the food chain. He wouldn't be able to do much, his fear was actually almost warranted.

"Gather up some men- anyone with a gun. Go out there and stay low, shoot anything that moves. Do you hear me?"

He nodded, his white military-issued hat nearly slipping off of his light brown hair. She loosened her grip on his collar, and in an instant he was stumbling down the hall, struggling to hold his rifle.

Moments later, the signal was hit. Red flashing alarms all around the fort soon sprung to life, the deep colored lights spinning as a loud drone echoed throughout the entire metal fortress. Soldiers high and low scrambled to drop their work and research, grab guns, and take to their combat and defense posts. Others leapt out of bed, tugging on coats and boots still half-asleep. Yawns were stifled by orders being shouted. Several groups tripped hastily up the stair and elevators, making their ways to Briggs' roof, where multiple cannons stood silent vigil in the night; awaiting action.

Accompanying these soldiers bound for the fort's top were the Major General and her adjutant. After years of service, Miles had gotten used to matching Olivier's quick pace. He followed her closely up the stairs- which were quicker than the crowded elevator at this point. They soon reached the top; neither breaking a sweat thanks to ages of countless emergency drills.

The blonde quickly strode up to one soldier who was looking out onto Drachman territory with a pair of binoculars, "What's the damage, captain?"

Flashing her a quick salute, the captain lowered his binoculars and handed them to the general. His eyes remained locked on the snowy night ahead of them, "Another flare was spotted to the northwest, sir. Red again. It's too dark to actually see more than that."

"Ah," Olivier replied, lifting the binoculars to look through them. Her long eyelashes brushed against the cold plastic of the field glasses as her eyes narrowed. Sure, it was dark, and maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but…

It seemed as if movement stirred within the umbra of the shadows cast upon the white ground underfoot. Dark, huddled masses loomed over the snow, gliding across the plain. There were only a few of them.

"There's something out there. Load a cannon," General Armstrong spoke lowly, glaring above the binocular's lens. She handed them to Miles, who took off his snow-blindness goggles to look through them. For a split second, even in the darkness of the night, she caught a glimpse of his deep red eyes. They had always been different and foreign, an alien sight to see in such a place as this. She admired them silently.

"I see them, general," He said, lowering the lenses and sporting a frown. "They're headed this way."

Olivier glared back at the soldiers behind them, "Didn't I tell you to load that cannon?"

"General!" Miles snapped suddenly, looking back through the binoculars again. The Amestrian's blue eyes widened; it was rare to hear the major raise his voice. "They've crossed our border, sir. What would you have us do?"

Silence hung in the air as the general stood in deep thought, "Don't fire the cannons yet. There's not many of them, it would be a waste of ammunition. Get some snipers up here, quickly."

On cue, several soldiers skidded to a halt in front of her, saluting in unison. She carefully took the binoculars from Miles, "Fire at will, boys. Be quick and efficient, as you were taught."

The snipers hunkered down on the fort's top, loading their weapons and resting them upon their shoulders. Their breathing seemed to still in each of their lungs as they all took aim. One fired, the kick of the gun causing their body to flinch backwards slightly. Another took a shot. A sharp intake of breath was heard from them, but it was unknown if it was because they missed or hit their mark. It could go either way.

Several others shot down onto the snow below them, until the group of them sat motionless. One spoke quietly, "That's all of them, general."

"Very good," Olivier turned on her heels, her coat whipping behind her elegantly. "Come, major."

Miles nodded, following her obediently without question. They made their way down through the fort, eventually emerging out into the gentle night down below. They stepped out, greeted by several soldiers. A couple of others could be seen nearby in the dark, dragging bodies nearer. The nervous soldier from before saluted the general and the major, which they then returned.

"They were Drachman alright, sir," he began, seemingly less skittish than before. His voice still held a deep apprehensiveness to it as he spoke, his salute lowering slowly and carefully. "They were soldiers, too. There was five of them, and a, uh…" he trailed off, his eyes cast downward as he searched for the correct words, "Well, just come see, sir."

Olivier nodded, following the soldier as he lead her and Miles over to the bodies. Several other Briggs soldiers hunched around something, huddled together and speaking lowly. "Move," the general hissed, to which every member of the small group lifted their head and nervously stepped aside.

The general glanced at her adjutant. She saw those beautiful red orbs of his widen in confusion, concern. Her cold, compassionless ones followed his surprised gaze, eventually landing on one soldier in the middle of their little circle.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

"... What the fuck?"

The Major General stood, dumbfounded, at the sight she saw before her.

As the circle of soldiers parted to let her through, they nervously exchanged glances. They feared for how their commander would react; even more so how she would actually respond to the situation.

In the snow, a soldier crouched. He was kneeling, though bent forward with his arms drawn to his chest. His labored breathing sent puffs of smoke into the freezing air. One would have suspected that, perhaps, he was wounded on his torso and he was merely clutching the wound. It wasn't an unfamiliar position to men of this war-torn region, after all. However, he met Olivier's stare as she stepped forward. His eyes didn't show anger or pain; merely a hopeless mix of fear and, most of all, confusion. He straightened slightly to show the officer what lay in his arms.

It was a small child. Alive, obviously- but very distressed; wrapped in thick fur with small, scrunched up eyebrows that gave it a look of discomfort.

Behind them, several other soldiers continued to drag the bodies into the fort behind them.

"Where did you find this?" Olivier snapped, without even thinking. She didn't care for children in the slightest, but this was the last place on Earth a baby needed to be. Her tone only served to make the baby whine and her soldiers simultaneously flinch.

The soldier shakily saluted her from the ground, not wishing to anger her further by a lack of protocol, "those two Drachmans had her with them, Sir."

The general opened her mouth to interrogate him further, but another soldier spoke before she could- "A man and woman, General. They were unarmed, but it is very obvious where they came from."

Olivier pursed her lips, not liking that fact one bit. She didn't advocate for the brutal murder of the unarmed, yet the full story remained a mystery to all of them. As a result, she didn't voice her feeling.

"It doesn't have a bomb strapped to it or anything, does it?" She asked flatly, eyeing the small stranger. A shake of the head from the soldier on the ground was her reply; to which she spun on her heels and started back for the fort. "I suppose we can't leave the thing outside. All of you get back in the fort immediately- there could be more out there and I don't want you lot standing around like absolute idiots just waiting for a bullet in your head."

Miles had remained behind her for the entire event, just eyeing the baby in sheer shock. Having a warmer heart than his commander, he hurried to help the soldier with the small bundle inside the steel fortress, making sure not to stray too far behind the general.

Several deep booms from the mortars on the roof were capable of sending small tremors even to the ground floor of the fort. The floor shook slightly beneath the boots of the Briggs soldiers as they hurried inside, the alarm still blaring since the coast was not yet clear. "I have to go back up topside," Olivier suddenly turned to her adjutant, mid-step up a flight of stairs. The major, used to the general's quick orders, immediately responded with an obedient nod. "Yes, Sir-"

"Take that kid to Doc," she suddenly ordered, turning and sprinting up the stairs before Miles even had a moment to mentally process he words. He turned slightly to look at the soldier who was carrying the child (who hadn't been given any orders yet- so he simply followed the commander and her adjutant like a lost puppy). The two men made eye contact before simultaneously lowering their gaze to the small life, who was just beginning to squirm and hiccup the beginnings of a cry due to the loud, booming noise.

"I'll take her," Miles spoke, trying to make his voice as comforting as possible. He, personally, liked children, and feared for the little one's safety. The soldier nodded quickly, handling the bundle of furs to the major as carefully as he could. "Go help them all up on the roof."

The soldier hurried off after a swift nod and salute. Miles, taking steps as cautiously as possible down the stairs, made his way past frantic soldiers and officers yelling orders until he made it back down to the ground floor once again. He held the small bundle close to him, attempting to muffle as much noise for the baby as possible. His mind raced, was she even going to live? She seemed to be bundled fairly well in the thick furs... Was this bear fur?

He found himself in front of the medical facility. He pushed one of the doors open to witness the lead doctor and her staff hurrying to prepare supplies for any wounded soldiers; a typical sight in the event of an attack. Several rushed past him with bags of already-loaded equipment, most likely to tend to any soldiers already injured outside of the building. "Doctor," he spoke up, catching her attention. She immediately looked up at him, a small gasp escaping her as she immediately spotted the child. "Where did you..?" she whispered, automatically trying to be quiet, though it did little good among the siren.

"She was with several Drachmans we killed. They had crossed the border and were approaching the fort," he said quickly, as if in an attempt to justify the fort's actions. He, of all people, despised the killing of the unarmed and most likely innocent. Sights of Ishval's ruin raced through his memory as he tried to make sense of everything.

The doctor spoke, but his momentary flashback clouded his attention. Of all of the horrors of the Ishvalan campaign, the one that struck his heart the sharpest was watching children crying in the street, dirtied and parent-less- or worse. He blinked his red eyes several times- the action guarded by his snowblindness goggles- as he regained his composure. "Hand her to me, Major," the doctor spoke, her tone slightly annoyed as if she had been repeating herself.

"Right," Miles breathed, his word a mere whisper as he carefully handed the baby over. He watched his silence as she lifted a tiny fist, a close-mouthed whine escaping her. A new idea bloomed in the soldier's mind, "Excuse me, Doctor, but I need to go help the defense."

The doctor nodded in reply as she immediately began to tend to the child, checking her vitals. Miles quietly slipped out of the infirmary. He made his way to the nearest phone, his path rather uninhibited due to the fact that most of the soldiers were guarding the fort now rather than scrambling around inside. He quietly made a call.

* * *

The alarm finally grew silent as the threat was disposed of. Soldiers, murmuring to each other about the attack, returned to their posts. Olivier remained up top with the cannons and several senior officers for about an hour or so, scoping the landscape and making sure that no enemies remained.

After the child was taken in, a new round of attacks started. Several Drachman tanks rolled up through the snow, shooting at the steel walls of the fort. Their numbers were small, however, and no major damage was taken save for several dents. Brigg's cannons, with the higher ground, and skilled snipers made quick work of their uniformed opponents.

One question still remained, however.

"General," Miles saluted to her. His chest heaved after running up the stairs as his red eyes looked down at her back. He felt a bead of sweat run down his temple despite being in freezing conditions; he didn't know how she would react to what he had done. She was looking through a pair of binoculars, her attention sharply focused on the snowy horizon and the debris from the Drachman tanks.

He only noticed after a brief moment that he was doing something rather sinful. As he stared at the back of her head and awaited her response, right arm stiff in a salute, his gaze had lowered. Her figure was shrouded by the heavy coat that all Briggs soldiers wore, but the illusion was slightly disrupted by how the D-rings fit the coat tightly to the curve of her waist- proving that there was, indeed, a_ very_ womanly form beneath the heavy layers. He had always ignored the smirks and mutterings of his fellow soldiers about the general. It was no secret that many of them found her attractive and joked about her sensual quirks, if any. There was a "humorous" (Miles didn't find it funny) rumor that one soldier was once given the eternal gift of being with her in bed once, only to be never seen again.

While the thought of the soldier's antics brought a scowl to the major's face, he couldn't help but be a hypocrite. While he would never admit it, he found her to be immensely attractive as well, but her beauty extended beyond being skin-deep to him. He wished that he didn't blossom with warmth every time she would brush past him, their contact causing his dark face to flush. He wished that he didn't notice how round and soft her face was, how blue her eyes were, how full her lips were... Or how much he wished to be with her.

Even if not in a carnal way, he wanted to be with her. His love- he hated to admit- was beyond a physical need. He saw through her beauty and saw the strength and power beneath. Her resolve and goals were something to be admired. She wasn't unlike him, in a way. While he grew up as a low-class mutt, she was bred and of pure, wealthy blood. Despite there being every physical difference between them imaginable, they were both discarded by everyone from an early age. Miles wasn't accepted in either the Amestrian or Ishvalan cultures- he looked Ishvalan, but did not grow up with the rituals and religion. Similarly, Olivier was looked down upon for her goals. She was meant to breed and look pretty, just as her wealthy ancestors had done before her. Nonetheless, she joined the Military Officer's Academy as soon as she was old enough, despite the nasty looks she received from everyone who knew her. _Fools_, Miles thought when Olivier shared her past with him._ I bet they all feel stupid, now that their perfect and delicate Armstrong girl has grown into one of the most powerful military officials of Amestris. _

That's partially why he loved her so. She knew the heartbreak that accompanied the breaking of barriers. Even she was able to break his negative disillusionment with the military upon their meeting. She was strong, and beautiful, and intelligent, and she was the definition of independence.

Still, he couldn't help but sneak sideways glances at her every once in a while. He would smile gently at the thought. He probably saw more of what she kept guarded than any other human ever had, simply because he was her adjutant and she trusted him with her life. Sometimes, he would catch a smile pull at her lips when he'd make a dry joke about the officials down in Central, or he'd pull a grimace as he sipped some nasty coffee. Sometimes they would talk quietly in her office when no work needed to be done, sharing goals and aspirations and stories from the pasts they'd both wish to forget. When the heating in the fort was in a good way, sometimes she'd shed her coat as they did paperwork in her office, and he'd catch a more accurate glimpse of her figure. Sometimes, she'd complain quietly about how her uniform wouldn't fit her anymore and she should lose some weight. He'd gently reassure her that she's an officer in the military, and thus she has muscle that doesn't give the illusion of a thin form. She'd grumble to herself, "supposing he was right", though in reality he berated himself for wanting to instead tell her how beautiful he found her to be. Being so close to her even on a platonic level was an honor. Even being able to feel like they were_ actually friends_ sometimes was as well.

His eyes drifted a little lower, to her legs which were also covered by her long coat, to her boots. Her feet were small compared to everyone else's, but then again, this fort was full of men.

"Finally you show up, Major," she spoke, her voice sharp as she turned to him, his red irises snapping up to meet hers. They were an icy blue, her thin eyebrows furrowed as she made eye contact. Miles swallowed the lump in his throat. "Where were you," the general frowned, her tone not even a question.

"You didn't give me any exact orders, sir," he replied quietly, still saluting. "I know you prefer me to be near you in times like this, but I had to make sure the child was taken care of first. I gave her to Doc and called in a few things for her from North City."

"What, like a good book and some tea, Major?" Olivier growled. "We have cannon shells in our walls and you were making a gift registry for some unidentified kid-"

"Sir," Miles spoke, his tone calm. It was moments like this where Miles served as a foil to the general, and she'd suddenly realize how angry she sounded. Normally, she wouldn't care, but she honestly hated yelling at her adjutant. Her shoulders visibly relaxed slightly as she waited for him to continue. "I was simply calling in some formula for the baby, sir. We don't know how long she's been without, she could die."

Olivier blinked, the soldiers on either side of her stiffening as they expected her to roar at the major again. Instead, she broke eye contact for a moment, something she rarely did, "I see. I apologize, Major."

The other officer's mouths almost hit the floor. The general never apologized.

Miles nodded, dropping his salute.

The shorter woman paused, glared at the officers, then spoke again, her stark tone returning, "Don't just stand there, you idiots. Clean up this shit." She waved a hand to the spent shells that littered the floor around them. They scrambled around as Olivier motioned Miles to follow her back into the fort.

"How is she?" She asked all of a sudden as they descended. "I couldn't tell, General," Miles replied as he followed her closely. Her classic blonde curls bounced with every step. "She seemed distressed, but I don't think she was hurt or anything."

Olivier nodded, silent as they continued. She wordlessly led him to the infirmary, where the doctors waited. They had all returned from checking the soldiers, and luckily, no one was hurt. They quietly made their way over to a bed in the corner, which the head doctor had made a small makeshift crib for the baby. Olivier peered into the bundle of brown furs, and Miles' heart fluttered for a moment. He had never seen this look on her face. Normally, the general was so sure and confident, and for the first time, her blue eyes were wide with piqued and genuine curiosity. She had talked to Miles about how she had watched her mother have all four of her siblings, so the sight of a baby shouldn't be new to her.

He stood straight as the doctor made her way over. Sensing his question, the doctor spoke up quietly, "Her vitals are good and her stomach seems full, from what we can tell. She's just a little cold, is all."

Miles breathed a sigh of relief, but stiffened when the doctor cleared her throat. "But, you may want to see this," she began, the sentence causing Olivier to straighten as well. The doctor stepped lightly over to the opposite side of the bed and carefully pulled the furs away with delicate fingers.

The general's and major's eyes widened. On the baby's loose wrappings sat bright, intricate reds and purples, but that wasn't the most surprising part. On her chest sat a detailed crest, sporting a bear and wolf motif locked in battle.

It was the Drachman Royal Crest.


	5. Chapter 5

The Ishvalan stood, staring, stunned. The Amestrian sighed, "My god, this has_ got_ to be a joke."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the doctor spoke up, fixing the fur so the baby would be covered and warm again. Upon this gesture, the small child's expression relaxed, her porcelain skin returning to its normal shade after momentarily flushing pink due to the cold. "But we've reached out to our contact in the Drachman city of Chernotsk. He confirmed that a rebellion was just attempted and there has been a military coup. Second Lieutenant Atherton came down to check on the little one, and he informed us that two of the adults that were killed are the Czar and Czarina of Drachma. Er..." she paused, "_Were_."

Olivier shook her head, "Why would they flee to Amestris? I'm sure they could've found some form of political asylum in one of their country's allies." Miles glanced down at her, catching his officer's attention.

"Not necessarily, sir," He spoke up, still looking a tad pale from the shock. "If they were that desperate, I'm sure they would've done anything." His red gaze fell upon the sleeping baby- "They'd risk death in the hopes that they, or someone else, could keep their baby safe."

"I didn't even know they had a child," Olivier murmured, half to herself, touching her chin in thought.

"We're not exactly friendly neighbors, General," Miles replied flatly, earning a disapproving grunt from the blonde. He sighed softly, "So, this little girl is, I guess, the princess of Drachma?"

"Czarevna," Olivier replied without looking at him, eyeing the baby carefully. Even the Ice Queen's cold heart was melting at the frankly adorable sight. "Czarevna of the old regime, rather. Doctor, please get a hold of communications again and ask our contact to reach out to me personally. What was that kid's name again..?

Miles piped up; his memory was often times better than his general's- "I believe it was Captain Ivanov, sir." Olivier nodded, silently spinning on her heels and heading towards the doors. Miles, usually quick to follow suit, leaned down and got another good look at the baby. She looked Drachman, all right. For a baby, her hair was a thick obsidian; it and her long, dark eyelashes contradicted her very light skin. Other than that, she looked entirely normal. Her eyes were shut peacefully, her chubby little arms folded tightly against her and her hands little balled-up fists. The Ishvalan couldn't help but smile fondly. His mother had always jokingly prodded him about getting married and starting a family, albeit her playful bickering was the stark opposite of Olivier's parents, who's mindsets were "_You will give us grandchildren_" rather than the "_You'd make a wonderful father, you know_" from her.

He had always toyed with the idea of raising a family- obviously before the Ishvalan war, of course. Even in Ishval during the conflict, children who had lost their parents (temporarily or permanently) would somehow flock to him. He didn't mind- he loved children. Sometimes, in the silence of his one-man bunk (officers got separate bunks, one of the very few rank advantages in Briggs) he'd toy with the idea of marrying one day, perhaps when he retired from the military, or if he was ever stationed somewhere more civil, like Central.

But then the idea of love would mockingly draw his thoughts back to the general. Then he'd ashamedly entertain the idea of starting a family with her. Now, _that_ was a thought. The general, a mother of all things. He'd almost immediately focus on something else, in fear that somehow maybe Olivier could read minds and she'd absolutely castrate him if she caught him thinking about such things.

Everyone at the fort knew Olivier's thoughts on motherhood. Once, a new private had accidentally called her "Mom" in front of the entire Briggs Brigade. Calling Olivier Armstrong "Mom" in front of two-thousand men almost made the young man die on the spot from embarrassment and fear. Funny enough, the general wasn't even mad. She stared at him for a good five minutes, called him some rude names, and assigned him to custodial duties.

Still, Miles would sigh. He would at least like to think that a family between him and Olivier would be of her own volition rather than an act forced upon her by her parents, who simply wished for her to continue the bloodline.

He knew, however, that she didn't feel that way about him in the slightest. And that was okay.

There wasn't a thing in the world that the knight wouldn't do for his queen.

"Miles," Olivier called over to him once she realized he wasn't behind her. The major quickly straightened, hurrying over to her, "Sorry, sir."

Olivier said nothing, yet Miles knew she didn't mind him trailing behind her, distracted. He felt a pit in his stomach; they had rendered this innocent child without parents. They couldn't help it, though- any breach of the border by a Drachman was something that needed to be dealt with.

The woman sensed his unease, "I didn't know you liked kids, Major." He lifted his head to reply, but she continued walking. Most likely towards her office. It wasn't unlike Miles to follow her to her office without realizing it. It was simply where he would hand out when he didn't have work- frankly, he enjoyed her company more than is alone time.

He gave a small nod, "Yes, General. I've always had kids sort of flock to me, I guess."

"I can see why."

What the hell did that mean? Perhaps she was implying that he was too soft. "I suppose I've always kind of wanted to be a father, too."

They reached her office, the blonde producing a key from the pocket of her uniform trousers. Her face revealed nothing, "Shame that I dragged you into service then. You could be a happy man with a nice wife and family right now."

He couldn't explain his blush. For once, he thanked his genes that his skin was dark enough to hide it. It took effort not to reply immediately, "No worries, sir. I'm quite happy here."

She grunted a reply and stepped inside the room, flicking the light switch. She made her way to the edge of the room, making sure to grab and drag a spare chair to the opposite side of her desk as she always did for him. She didn't need to speak, their routine was set in stone; he knew that her gesture had meant that she was once again inviting him to stay in her office with her as she worked. He decided to break the silence as she stepped around the desk to her own chair. Clearing his throat, he took his seat, "I'm glad you brought me here, General. I don't know how you knew it just by looking at me, but this really is my calling."

Olivier didn't look at him; she merely took a sheet of paper off the stack that sat at the edge of the desk. She silently recalled their meeting, tossing the memory around in her mind for a moment. Unknowingly, he did the same. They had met during the Civil War- Miles, despite growing up in Central with his "Amestrian" family (he was the only one of his siblings and parents to have inherited the Ishvalan genes) was deported to Ishval simply because of how he looked. They called him an Ishvalan spy. He didn't know the language strongly or customs of the province, so he found no peace among kin there. Olivier, only a colonel at the time, was new to Briggs when she was sent to Ishval to fight. There, they met, and she immediately saw herself in him. Her platoon was recalled when the order was issued to send in the state alchemists after the fighting had gone on for too long. Secretly, she brought him with her to Briggs, instating him into the military to keep him safe.

He thought about resigning when law was passed to rid the military of Ishvalan soldiers, just so she would be spared getting court-martialed for harboring someone like him. She ordered him to stay, otherwise he'd have to have a one-on-one duel with her.

Needless to say, Miles knew how to choose his battles wisely- by not battling.

He was attracted to her before then, but if asked, that's where he'd say he first realized it was love.

He watched her right hand as it signed the form in front of her. It was a shame that half of the general's duty revolved around paperwork. It seemed like such a silly thing to admire, but he loved her handwriting. Years of living a wealthy childhood had gifted her with certain high-class skills, like calligraphy, art, and etiquette. She'd written him a note once, reminding him to pick up a shipment of a certain set of ammunition on a trip to North City he had taken. He kept the note just because it was pretty.

They were silent for a while, until he spoke up, "Thank you, Olivier."

Her bright blue eyes flickered up to look at him, her head not moving. He rarely called her by her first name, it was insubordinate of him. However, for the rare times he did, it was because he was dead serious about something. Actually, he had only done it twice before- once when she was on a rampage and was about to kill the next person she saw, the other when she had been shot and Miles were severely afraid of losing her.

"What's this, Major?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious. He couldn't help but notice the shimmer of her eyes- the blue was light, but lined with a darker shade. Lighter and darker flecks of the main color within them caused them to sparkle. He took off his goggles to return her gaze, his red eyes perfectly contrasting with her own.

"For sticking up for me, always. I know I've said it before, but..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "I'm not just saying this because you're my senior officer and boss, but I truly believe that you have the most admirable motives of any military leader. You've given me, and many other men here, everything we have..."

Olivier slid the paper over to the other side of her desk, starting a "finished" pile. The sudden movement startled the major slightly. "Please don't kiss my ass, Major. You know I know how grateful you are."

_But you don't_, Miles thought. It was times like these when he just wanted to throw his arms around her and kiss her. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him. He wasn't lying when he said that she gave him everything. But that'd end up with a saber through his chest.

"Yes, sir," the major replied softly as the general began working again. "Would you like me to get you anything?"

"Coffee," she said without looking up. "How I like it, please."

He nodded, standing quietly. He didn't know if she was lying or not, but apparently when Miles made coffee at the fort, it was bearable to her. Briggs was notorious for receiving shitty rations, and the coffee was undrinkable. Even Miles thought so, whenever he made it- but apparently, Olivier liked it. It wasn't like her to lie just to spare another's feelings, so he ended up believing her.

He made his way out of her office and down the hall to the elevator. It passed the floor that the infirmary was on. He debated on visiting the baby, but decided against it. Eventually, he got to the mess hall and went directly to the coffee station. He felt a pang of loneliness- he and Captain Buccaneer would sometimes spend hours down at one of these tables, laughing and talking. This was whenever Olivier was busy, of course. The irony was painful; Miles truly believed that Buccaneer was beginning to suspect his feelings for the general before he was killed.

Carefully, he made his way up to her office once again. The general had a sweet tooth, so he always made sure to add a lot of sugar. He soon got to her office and quietly stepped inside.

She was standing at her desk, the phone to her ear. She immediately looked up at him when she saw him, "Major, good timing. Get over here."

He nodded quickly, setting her coffee down and making his way to her, "What is it?"

"Ivanov," she replied before speaking into the phone, "Yes, he's here. Wait, let him listen too." Olivier mentioned Miles closer, and he obliged, stepping up beside her left side, where the phone sat. Without warning, she grabbed the fur of his Briggs coat and tugged him down to her, his face so close that their cheeks were slightly touching. His entire body grew hot and his heart immediately began pounding against his ribcage. "Listen," The shorter woman ordered. "I waited for him to tell me so I wouldn't have to relay it to you."

Miles nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. This was the closest he'd ever been to her. A few of her blonde curls tickled his forehead. "Go ahead, Ivanov," she said.

"Yes, sir." Came the reply from the phone. "I called as soon as I could, things are really bad here. Me and other civilians have been evacuated to Neryuyev after the coup. It looks like the Czar was planning on extending some peace treaty drafts to you, especially after the failed raid recently. Extremists didn't like that, so they overthrew him and his wife.."

"I see," Olivier sighed. "So they were trying to escape with their daughter."

"Yes, General. The leaders of the coup told the public that they did it because 'Drachma is a great nation that should not have been defeated by a small fraction of the Amestrian military'. General Armstrong, I have reason to believe that they will be planning a full-scale attack."

"I see. Do you fear for your safety, Captain?"

"No sir. I've been fitting in very well with the locals."

Olivier shot a glance to Miles, who momentarily returned it. Their silent communication lasted for a brief moment. The general spoke with her usual resolve, "Good, then. Keep up the good work; I trust that you'll send more updates now. Look forward to a promotion upon your return."

Ivanov's excitement could be heard through his reply, "Y-yes, General! Thank you!"

Straightening, Olivier hung up the phone. Miles, wanting to linger, reluctantly straightened as well. The two soldiers took to their seats, a soft sigh escaping Olivier's full lips as she drew the coffee mug closer to her. It was very late in the night, but there was no way in hell the two would be sleeping tonight. Might as well get some work done.

Another long silence rung out between them.

"Well," Miles inhaled through his nose. "This is, uh. A predicament."

"No shit."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I try to remain as canon as possible with Miles' backstory ;w; My friend Beck (shoutout 3) and I roleplay these two a lot and he helped me come up with Miles' backstory and stuff! I'd also like to give a big thanks to CD64 who has been reviewing and supporting this since the beginning!


	6. Chapter 6

No news wasn't necessarily good news in the general's mind. She had hoped that Ivanov would begin updating her more regularly on the politics in Drachma after the incident, but she actually hadn't heard from him at all after their initial conversation.

She sat in her office, tapping her pen on her desk restlessly, Miles silently watching from across her. The baby had been doing fine over the past few weeks. It was the dead of winter, and the weather had begun growing fierce, causing transportation to and from the fort to draw to a complete standstill. As a result, the Drachman- Olivier had been informed that her name was Karelia- was to be held at the fort until the roads cleared once again.

The blonde hated to admit anything was cute. She, however, accidentally let it slip to her adjutant that she found the Drachman to be so. He gave her a warm smile, agreeing, "I think so too, General. She's so sweet. Did I tell you, she grabbed my finger the other night when I went to visit her."

He gave Olivier that warm, deep chuckle that she loathed. Loathed because of how it made her legs weak and her heart thud quicker.

"I had to wait until she fell asleep for me to slip away."

"So that's why you were late to meet me," she replied, resting her elbow on her desk and propping up her head, staring at him with cold eyes. He knew her too well, though, to realize that her anger wasn't always the same ferocity that she showed her soldiers. He could always recognize the glint of dry humor in her voice.

"Uh. Well, yes," he replied, though the woman shook her head quietly. "Work's been slow," she mentioned as an afterthought. The Ishvalan's head tilted slightly, questioning.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her eyelashes gently brushing her cheekbones. Exhaled through her nose. "It's okay if you visit her. I mean, you're still getting your work done, so I don't care what you do in your spare time."

"You should visit her too," came the quiet reply. Olivier's eyes opened, irises peering over at the major. He saw her look and searched for the correct words, knowing the general didn't particularly enjoy being told what to do. "Pardon me for saying, but you seemed rather interested in her when we first took her in. It's been three weeks, and you haven't been down to see-"

"You know what?" Olivier suddenly stood, her chair squeaking as it was moved backwards. Miles' eyes widened, immediately worried. No matter how close he was to her, she never ceased to startle him. Especially since she had cut him off. However, she surprised him.

"I think I will. See what all of the damned fuss is about," she muttered, retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. She pulled it on, momentarily adjusting her saber. Miles couldn't fight a smile.

"And wipe that look off your face," she continued to grumble as he stood and followed her to the door. "I don't understand what the hell it is with all you people and god damn babies. You see one and you're immediately reduced to a puddle."

"She'll like you," Miles said suddenly, causing the general to stop cold in her tracks. She turned to him, glaring daggers. That bastard was still fucking smiling. "I ought to demote you," she threatened. "Or worse, I'll wipe that grin off your mug myself." The major's smile faded, albeit slowly, and he gave her a curt nod. She turned back around and continued down the hall, oblivious to the amused look that had returned to Miles' face.

They eventually reached the infirmary. Besides the doctors and their very special guest, the large room was empty. Not many medics were even on duty at the moment, so only the lead doctor and several others remained.

"Oh, General," she smiled over at her commanding officer, adjusting her headband slightly. "Good timing. I trust you're here to see Karelia? I was just about to feed her."

Luckily, the supplies Miles had called in did not take long to arrive. That was just before the flurry of bad weather.

"Mm," Olivier pursed her lips, not pleased to be associated with the Drachman child. Miles, on the other hand, might as well have been bouncing up and down. The two made their way over to the makeshift crib, where Karelia was on her back, asleep. She had been given a new little onesie and was no longer freezing. The furs she had been found with, however, remained near to her to cuddle if she wished.

Of course, the major immediately began to gently scoop her up. Olivier would admit, she didn't expect him to be so drawn to the little royal so quickly. By the way he lifted her and brought her close to his chest, one would think it was his kid all along. The general had to turn her attention to something, anything else, in order to fight of the heat that swelled from her chest and to her cheeks. Seeing him all fatherly made her whole body just ache. She ended up awkwardly staring up at the lighting fixtures, and the odd gesture caused Miles to glance up as well, wondering what was so interesting.

The doctor returned to them with a heated bottle of formula. As if they had done all this before, she handed it to Miles, and he began speaking softly to the baby. Her blue eyes slowly fluttered open, and upon seeing him, her toothless mouth opened into a smile. She hiccuped a typical baby noise and started reaching for his face, her little hands grabbing at the air.

Olivier was silent.

He fed her for around fifteen or so minutes before she began to slow down. Removing the bottle and setting it aside, he began pacing around and gently burping her. The general's eyes followed him slowly, frankly amazed at how her loyal adjutant, whom she thought she knew everything about, switched to this hidden mode of his so swiftly. Maybe he _was _meant to be a father instead of the path she had presented to him.

He could, if he wanted to- anyone at Briggs could be a parent. There was nothing saying one couldn't. However, Briggs wasn't like East, or Central, or even North, for that matter. Balancing being a parent here was simply too difficult. It was too far from civilization and, being blunt, it was an eternal warzone. Both nature and fellow man were against the soldiers here. Some men had families back at home, but they had been established prior to them being stationed at the border. Any other way would be nearly impossible.

Olivier was lost in thought, but Miles' small smile brought her to. "Would you like to see her, General?" he asked, his voice quiet as to not disturb Karelia.

"I'm good," she replied. "I haven't held a baby in more than twenty years. I wouldn't want to drop her. Plus, she'd probably be scared of me and start crying."

The major shook his head, smile unwavering. He chuckled again. Fucker.

"She hasn't heard any opinions of you, sir. Babies don't understand the concept of authority and power," he spoke again, already beginning to hand the Drachman to her. Unable to protest, Olivier carefully took the little one.

In all honesty, she knew the baby wouldn't burst into tears upon seeing her, like so many of her soldiers had. What she didn't expect was Karelia giggling and reaching for her just as she had done for Miles. Miles must have noticed the surprise on his superior's face, "I knew she'd like you, General."

"Yeah, well," she sputtered in reply. Her stoicism was merely a failing facade at this moment. "She probably does this to everyone."

"She doesn't try to grab hair like that."

Karelia had somehow gotten a small fistful of one of Olivier's large curls. She stared up at the Amestrian, babbling quietly and enjoying the tactile sensation of the long, blonde hair. Growing more comfortable, Olivier held her close to her chest to support her more. Karelia let go of her hair and proceeded to cling to he woman's uniform. Instantly, she noticed the general's two shiny medals and began reaching for them as well. Olivier would never admit it, but for once, she was silently thankful for her womanly figure. Her chest was serving as quite the effective shelf for the baby.

"Aw," a voice snapped Olivier violently from her solace. The head doctor was near them again, smiling. "I should go get a photographer. This is too precious."

Anyone other than Miles and the doctor would've been dead for saying that. Olivier snarled, "Do it and you'll have to perform surgery on yourself."

Used to her 'affection', the doctor casually continued, "We had better get her back into her little bed. Wouldn't want her getting cold again."

Reluctantly, Olivier relinquished the Drachman and watched as she was returned to her crib. "Ready to go, General?" Miles piped up, taking his place beside her. Without a word, Olivier turned for the door, adjutant in tow.

They made their way outside in silence; it was their turn to patrol. They didn't always go together, but they often did just for the sake of company. Miles opened his mouth to say something, but Olivier spoke first, softly- "You're very good with her."

The tone of her voice caused Miles to falter, though he continued behind her, "Thank you, sir. So were you."

"Are you happy here, Miles? Actually."

Questions like that always caught the man off guard. His eyebrows knit together, unsure of Olivier's motives, "Yes, sir. Of course, life here is difficult and often without thanks, but I'm glad to be able to serve my country."

"The country that deported you," Olivier replied. Her tone had changed once again, but this was one Miles was altogether unfamiliar with. It was almost solemn.

"There's good and bad Amestrians," Miles replied, slowly, choosing his words carefully once again. "Just as there's good and bad Ishvalans. Good and bad soldiers, too."

"Which one do you think I am?"

More surprises. This time, Miles' footsteps ceased. Hearing him stop behind her, Olivier silently turned to look back at him.

"Good, of cour-"

"Not just because I'm your senior officer, Miles. I've been called every name in the book and beyond and," she paused to sigh. "Though it'd be.. different, coming from you, I want to know. I've killed many people, I've done many things for the wrong reasons. Hell, I've betrayed the military I've fought so hard for."

He knew she was referring to her role in the foiling of the Promised Day. Not only did she kill General Raven, but she had commanded her men to go to battle against Central soldiers. Miles knew his answer, though he was silent to give the illusion of consideration.

"I suppose good and bad are relative, but to me... I truly believe you're wholly good. Everything you've done has been ultimately for the state. You're the most selfless person I've ever had the gift of meeting. And pardon me for saying..."

Was this it? Miles truly didn't know if he was about to confess or not. He wanted her to know, but... this was something that would have to come gradually. Maybe he'd wait until after this conflict was Drachma was resolved, so she wouldn't miss his assistance when she fired him for telling him he loved her.

"You're my favorite person, General."

"You must not know very many people, Major."

He felt a sharp pain in his heart. Did she truly think of herself this negatively?

"There's nowhere I'd rather be than here, supporting your endeavors. By your side."

She blinked, as if his words had struck something within her. Miles immediately prepared himself to be physically struck.

However, this seemed to change her mind, as her gaze lowered to the snow at their feet. Silently, she turned and continued her walk. He could only hope that his words hadn't upset her; that was the last thing he wanted. He remained silent as well, not wishing to push the issue any further.

About an hour later, they returned to find a soldier frantically searching the halls for them. Upon seeing them, he skittered over, throwing up a weak salute as he panted.

"This had better be good," she spoke to him immediately. He was stuck in an attempt to catch his breath for a moment, trying Olivier's patience, "Say it or I'm leaving. I can hear a bath in my bunk calling my name."

She took a step to move past him, but his wheeze made her stop.

"I-it's Captain Ivanov, General."


End file.
